Thrive.

Truthfully, I don't understand how my 34th year flew by as quickly as it did, but once again, 365 days passed within a beautiful blink of an eye and on Sunday I turned 35 years old.  The weekend was one of the busiest I've had in awhile but, really, when have you ever known me to not be busy? 

Friday morning, at the literal crack of dawn, I caught a flight down to Philadelphia, as one of my closest friends from high school was getting married in New Jersey that night.  I spent the evening with my core high school girls; dancing, laughing, and celebrating our friend Moira as she celebrated her brand new life as a Mrs.

Saturday, I spent a few quiet moments with my Dad, going out to breakfast at a nearby greasy spoon, and celebrating the early afternoon with a slice of cake and a handful of presents sent from family.  Then, it was back to the airport to catch my return flight back to Boston, touching down Saturday evening.  With just enough time to take a cab back to my apartment, drop my suitcase, and change clothes, I hit the town again, setting out to meet my urban dwelling friends for a few celebratory birthday cocktails...(and then promptly encouraging all of us to shut the bar down at 2 am.)

Sunday, my actual birthday, was spent recovering a bit in the morning after my previous two late nights, and then driving north of the city to spend the afternoon with my favorite non urban friends. The entire group of us - too many adults to count and seven kiddos - went apple picking and then, because these friends know me as well as they do, threw an "end of summer/birthday" BBQ, complete with watermelon, summer brews, grilled deliciousness, and, of course, plenty of cake.

By the end of the weekend, I crawled into bed happy, content, older, wiser, and utterly exhausted.  Which, if you think about it, is exactly how one should feel after a birthday weekend.

I tend to treat every birthday as personal "new year" - as the flipping of a calendar on the day you were born has always felt even more like a fresh start than January 1st does.  Last week, as 35 loomed closer and closer, I sat down, old fashioned journal and pen in hand, with the intent of thinking about what I wanted to get out of the coming 365 days, what my goals and plans would be for my personal new year ahead of me.   

Maybe it's a cop-out, or maybe I was just too tired to think clearly, but really, I couldn't think of much more beyond, as Matthew McConaughey would say, to "just keep livin'."  Obviously, there are plenty more places I want to travel and career aspirations to fulfill, people to meet and books to read and friends and family to spend time with and adventures around each and every corner.  But really, I've carved out a damn wonderful life for myself in the 35 years I've been given thus far.  And I'm pretty content to just enjoy each and every glorious day as it comes my way.

With a little help from my friends too of course.